Only One
by Cassandra Mulder
Summary: Buffy finds there's only one person she can go to that will understand.


Title: Only One  
  
Author: Cassandra Mulder  
  
E-mail: dana_mulder32@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Classification: Buffy POV; B/S vignette; angst  
  
Spoilers: Anything up through season 6.  
  
Written: November 19-20, 2001  
  
Distribution: You can have it if you want it, but you gotta ask me first!  
  
Disclaimer: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" belongs to Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, the gang at Mutant Enemy, and UPN. I have nothing to do with any of them, though I would like Spike. ;) I'm just doing this for the fun of it, and nothing is being made off of this.  
  
Author's Notes: I'm not even going to begin to speculate about where this came from. I guess this is how I would like to see Buffy come to Spike, and not the way she really has been doing things. I know it wouldn't happen like this, but I thought it would make a nice little vignette.  
  
Huge thanks to Suzi for always being my "Angel" and now "Buffy" beta. You rock, girl!  
  
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When did it all become too much to bear? I put myself into survival mode for so long that I never even saw this coming. The past, horrendous year of my life just hit me like a ton of bricks, and now the blackness is swallowing me and I can't seem to breathe.  
  
I need someone, but who do I have left? There is only one person who will hear me out, one person that really cares anymore. The only person I never thought I would trust with anything, especially my life, my emotions, or my heart.  
  
The pain is searing through my chest as I all but stumble through the graveyard. It's not from a physical wound. No, this runs much deeper. I feel as if there's a dam about to break inside me, and though I thought I did at first, I don't want to be alone anymore. I can't be. And if he's the only one that will let me in, then so be it.  
  
I bang on the door to this God awful crypt of his, and hear a thud as if he's running into something.  
  
"Bloody hell! Who's breaking my door down at three in the morning?" I hear him yell.  
  
"Spike!" I yell back, and my voice sounds strangled in my ears. "It's me. It's Buffy."  
  
The door creaks open, and he looks at me with so much concern that I think I'm going to lose it right here.   
  
"Oh, Christ, Buffy," he almost whispers. That's it, I must look as awful as I feel. He puts his arm around me, and practically carries me in. For some reason, I'm not so strong right now.  
  
He sits us both down on an oversized chair, and clutches me to him, though any other time he'd think better of it. I'd make sure he did.  
  
Now, I just need to tell someone. I need to pour out the pain and the torture and the heartache. Before it breaks me into pieces, I need to know that someone's listening, that someone cares, that someone will help me find my way back to myself. I can't do what I've been doing anymore. I spend every minute trying to keep a grasp on sanity, and that grasp is not so slowly slipping.  
  
I never wanted him to see me like this, but everything inside me finally breaks. Gasping sobs start, and I can't control them. Not even if I wanted to.  
  
Spike finally pulls away from me a bit, and brushing the tangled, damp hair away from my face, he asks softly, "What's wrong, luv?"  
  
"The nightmares... They don't get better, they only get worse. I don't know what to do. I'm afraid to go to sleep anymore. Can you imagine? Me? The Slayer, afraid to go to sleep?" I must be bordering on hysteria now. I need to calm down, but that would be rational, and I don't have any rationality left in me.  
  
"What is it, Buffy? What do you dream about? It's all right, you can tell me."  
  
I know I can, I know he cares more than anyone else, but how do I explain them?  
  
"My mother. She's in my dreams a lot lately. I don't really know why, but it's almost as if she's trying to make sure that I'm all right, and she knows I'm not. So she comes back over and over. God, Spike, I miss her. I don't know how I'm making it without her."  
  
"I know you do," he says softly. "Your mother was a good woman, and she loved you more than anything. You know that, right?"  
  
I nod against the hand that rests on my cheek, and realize I've never heard Spike quite this gentle or reassuring. I must be scaring him, coming here like this.  
  
He cradles me to his chest, and all my thoughts slip away. It feels so good to have something, someone, solid to lean on. It's been far too long since I've had that. I could almost nod off here, but I have to get the rest of it out, the worst of it. Maybe then it will leave me alone.  
  
"Other times," I start to choke out, "I dream about where I was. I don't want to. I don't want to remember, because I've never felt so peaceful as I was there. The dreams aren't the problem, it's waking up and realizing it's not real. That I was taken out of heaven for no reason, other than my friends felt guilty about my death. It was my job to die, why couldn't they leave it alone?"  
  
He sighs, and we both know he doesn't have a perfect answer.  
  
"Buffy, they love you so much, they wanted you back. They were afraid of where you might be because of how you died. I could've told them with certainty that they were wrong, that you weren't in any hell dimension. If they had really looked at all the things you've done, all the things you were... If they'd seen what I see in you, they would've known you were rewarded.  
  
"I know how it felt to want what they wanted, because I wanted it, too. All summer I tortured myself with what I could have done, I told you that. It wasn't those damn Scoobies keeping me here, because they don't give a flip about me. It was Dawn. Because she's a part of you, and because of what I promised you, I would, and will, protect her with my life. She was all I had left here. I would've done anything to have you back, but I wouldn't have done what Willow did. That had serious consequences, and could've had worse with the magick she was dealing in."  
  
I tremble at his words, because he really means them. I'm dealing with so many things, and it's now that I finally realize he really means it. He stayed here in this hell hole without me, for me.  
  
He kisses the top of my head and says, "Do you dream about anything else, pet?"  
  
"Waking up in my coffin," I say, and my voice is dead again, hollow and ringing in my ears.  
  
"That's not an easy one to get over, is it?"  
  
I shake my head against his chest.  
  
"It happened tonight, just before I ran all the way here. I woke up and everything was black, and I felt trapped. I couldn't breathe. I almost thought I was back there in the woods, in the ground, and I'd have to claw my way out again."  
  
He's rocking me now, as if I'm a child able to be comforted. But I don't care. As long as I'm here, not alone, knowing I'm not in the ground, I'll try to be calm.  
  
"Not high on my list of delightful experiences," he says, feigning lightness. "Actually," he says, his tone darkening, "it's rather traumatic, even for a vampire."  
  
I uncurl and look into his blue eyes that can be so gentle. "How do I forget?"  
  
"Unfortunately, you don't. But it will get better, Buffy. You'll be able to look past all this someday. It might not be tomorrow, and it might not be this year, but you will be able to move on."  
  
"I don't think so. It hurts so much." I'm crying again.  
  
"Will you let me help you, Buffy? You know I love you, you've known it. Coming to me like this is a start. All I want to do is try to lessen the pain, I can't stand to see you like this. You don't deserve it, and if I could make it better just like that, I would. But I can help you make it a little at a time.  
  
"If you just want to talk, or to cry, or to beat the hell out of something, come see me. It doesn't have to be anything more, unless you want it to be."  
  
I divert my eyes from his, because at some point I think I might want more. Not right this second, but things definitely start happening to my heart when I look at him now. I know I shouldn't, but I'll deal with that when the time comes.   
  
"I just don't want to wake up in that coffin anymore, Spike. I can't. And Will and Xander don't understand, and they're hardly ever there, and I don't want to be alone anymore." I know I sound pathetic, but I can't help it. Everything I said is true. If anyone ever had a codependency problem, it's Buffy Summers. But that's something else I'll deal with later. Even Angel couldn't get through such horrors alone.  
  
"It's okay, luv. You won't. I'll make sure of it," he whispers, and he shifts us a bit until I can comfortably curl into a ball in his arms.  
  
I rest my head in the crook of his neck, and he wraps his arms around me. I've never seen him act quite like this. The transformation from him hating me to loving me was always too much to comprehend. And even though I still don't know when, how, or why it happened, I'm starting to believe.  
  
Cradled in his arms, with him stroking my hair slowly and steadily, I'm also starting to believe that darkness can pull me out of darkness. And as I finally become sleepy, I know that darkness or not, this man is the only one who can pull me out at all.  
  
The End 


End file.
